Page 77 of Claimed Through Deception

"Tell me who you belong to," he commands. He delivers a sharp, stinging smack to my bare thigh, the sudden pain melting instantly into a wicked, undeniable ache that feeds the fire burning in my core.

"You," I cry out, my pace increasing into a frantic, chaotic bounce. "I belong to you, Niccolò. Only you."

He pulls my head down, capturing my mouth in a filthy, ravenous kiss. He tastes like mint and raw power, devouring my moans as I grind against him. He uses his grip on my hair to control the angle of my descent, forcing me to take him at the exact, agonizing trajectory that makes my vision flash with brilliant white light.

"That's it, good girl," he praises, his thumb finding the swollen bundle of nerves at my center, pressing hard to push me over the precipice. "Take everything I have."

The combination of his penetrating thrusts and the relentless, aggressive pressure of his thumb obliterates my remaining control. I shatter into a million pieces, a magnificent, helpless scream tearing out of my throat as my inner muscles clamp around his length with crushing force. I sob his name, my nails biting into the pristine white sheets as wave after wave of blinding ecstasy wrecks my frame.

My violent release tips him over the edge. Niccolò roars, a feral sound that reverberates off the stainless steel walls, and thrusts upward into my core one final time. He empties his release inside me with a violent, shuddering climax, his entire body going rigid beneath me before he collapses back against the pillows.

I slump forward, incredibly careful not to press my weight against his bandaged chest. I rest my cheek against the warm, uninjured skin of his shoulder, my breathing completely out of sync. Sweat slicks our bodies, mixing with the scent of vanilla and sex, transforming the sterile hospital bed into a chaotic, beautiful sanctuary.

Niccolò wraps his arm securely around my waist, his fingers gently tracing the faint, soothing circles across my back. The wild, aggressive hunger has vanished, replaced by a bone-melting, peaceful exhaustion.

"We are going upstairs tomorrow," he murmurs into my messy hair. "I am done staring at these gray walls, and I refuse to let our baby think we live in a medical ward. We are taking our bedroom back."

I smile against his skin, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone. "Dr. Evans is going to throw a fit."

"Dr. Evans works for me," the Don replies arrogantly, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. "You are my queen, and queens do not sleep in hospital chairs."

I close my eyes, tangling my legs with his under the twisted blankets, and finally understand what it means to be untouchable.

32

Niccolò

The rain washes the blood from the cobblestones of the Falco compound, but the metallic scent of a slaughtered empire remains a permanent fixture in the midnight air. I stand in the center of Don Falco’s private study, rolling my shoulders to test the flexibility of the freshly healed scar tissue crisscrossing my chest. Dr. Evans explicitly warned me about pushing my physical limits, but the dull ache radiating through my ribs is a pathetic price to pay for the eradication of the men who tried to murder my unborn child.

Don Falco kneels on the imported Turkish rug, his hands bound behind his back with industrial zip ties. His face is bruised and bleeding from the meticulous, brutal beating Alessio just administered. The old man shivers, staring up at me with wide, terrified eyes that mirror the exact panic his mercenaries tried to inflict upon Livia when they breached my home.

"You cannot just wipe out a founding family, Severato," Falco wheezes, spitting a mouthful of blood onto his own carpet. "The Commission will sanction you. They will dismantle your borders and feed you to the wolves for breaking the oldest laws we have."

I step closer, the steel heel of my boot crunching over the shattered glass of his whiskey decanter. "The Commission answers to me now. You orchestrated a suicide strike on my home, utilizing a rogue maid to bypass my security grid, and you sent a hitman to aim a weapon at the woman carrying my heir. There is no law on this earth that protects a man who threatens my family."

Alessio leans casually against the mahogany doorframe, wiping a speck of blood from his leather jacket with a monogrammed handkerchief. He surveys the ruined room with a vicious, unbothered smirk, completely immune to the desperate pleas of a dying rival.

"Your empire is already ash, Falco," Alessio informs him smoothly, tossing the ruined fabric onto a nearby chair. "We seized your offshore accounts three hours ago, and your remaining Capos surrendered the docks the moment they realized you abandoned them to save your own skin. The only remaining asset your pathetic family possesses is your daughter, and we already formulated a solution for that specific problem."

Falco’s head snaps up, his eyes darting frantically toward my brother. "Caterina has nothing to do with this. Leave my daughter out of the crossfire."

"Caterina is the key to absorbing your remaining loyalists without igniting a splinter war," I state, pulling the customized Smith & Wesson from the holster at my hip. "A fractured territory breeds rats, and I refuse to leave a single vulnerability for my enemies to exploit. Alessio will formally take Caterina as his bride by the end of the month. He will bind the Falco name to our syndicate, neutralizing the threat while expanding our reach."

Alessio chuckles, a wicked sound that promises a lifetime of beautiful torment for the spoiled mafia princess who thought she was too good to be ignored. "She threw a massive tantrum when Niccolò broke the engagement, so I figure I might as well step up and tame the brat. She gets to keep her status, the traditionalists get their precious treaty, and you get to die knowing a Severato owns every single thing you ever valued."

Falco screams a furious, garbled curse in Sicilian, thrashing against his restraints in a futile attempt to reach my brother.

I do not give him the courtesy of a final speech. I raise the weapon, align the sights with the center of his forehead, and pull the trigger. The deafening crack echoes off the vaulted ceilings, silencing his pathetic struggles instantly. His body slumps forward, staining the ornate rug with the physical evidence of his failure.

I stare at the corpse, feeling the suffocating, relentless paranoia that has plagued my mind for months finally evaporate into the humid night air. The threat is eradicated. The man who ordered the hit on Livia is dead. My child will never have to look over their shoulder, wondering if the ghosts of my past are coming to collect a debt.

"Call the cleanup crew," I instruct Alessio, holstering my weapon as I turn my back on the wreckage. "Then gather Enzo and the Capos. I want everyone in the war room the moment I return to the estate."

The atmosphere inside the Severato war room crackles with anticipation. The massive mahogany table is polished to a pristine shine, reflecting the faces of the most dangerous men on the eastern seaboard. Dante, and Silvio stand near the towering bookshelves, speaking in hushed, urgent tones about the successful integration of the Falco territories. Enzo sits at my right hand, reviewing the updated logistical charts on his encrypted tablet, his tailored suit completely immaculate despite the bloodshed we orchestrated only hours prior.

I stand at the head of the table, nursing a glass of imported bourbon, letting the reality of our undisputed dominance settle over the room. The war is officially over. The borders are fortified, the enemies are buried, and the Severato crown rests firmly upon my head without a single challenger left breathing.

"The transition is proceeding seamlessly," Enzo reports, glancing up from the glowing screen. "With Alessio's impending marriage to Caterina publicly announced, the remaining Falco soldiers have sworn allegiance to our flag. The supply chains through the narrows are fully operational, and the Irish factions have formally agreed to the new tariff structures. You possess a monopoly, Niccolò."